The Railway Children (1970) - IMDb IMDb There was an error trying to load your rating for this title. Some parts of this page won't work property. Please reload or try later. X Beta I'm Watching This! Keep track of everything you watch; tell your friends. Error After the enforced absence of their father, three children move with their mother to Yorkshire, where during their adventures they attempt to discover the reason for his disappearance. Director: a list of 34 titles created 07 Jan 2014 a list of 26 titles created 11 Apr 2014 a list of 25 titles created 24 May 2015 a list of 37 titles created 9 months ago a list of 30 titles created 9 months ago Title: The Railway Children (1970) 7.4/10 Want to share IMDb's rating on your own site? Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Nominated for 2 BAFTA Film Awards. Another 1 nomination. See more awards » Photos A mysterious, very old solicitor Mr. Blunden visits Mrs.

Allen and her young children in her squalid, tiny Camden Town flat and makes her an offer she cannot refuse. The family become the ... See full summary » Director: Lionel Jeffries On holiday with their mother in the Lake District in 1929 four children are allowed to sail over to the nearby island in their boat Swallow and set up camp for a few days. They soon realise... See full summary » Director: Claude Whatham Four kids travel through a wardrobe to the land of Narnia and learn of their destiny to free it with the guidance of a lion messiah. Director: Bill Melendez The Daleks' fiendish plot in 2150 against Earth and its people is foiled when Dr. Who and friends arrive from the 20th century and figure it out. Director: Gordon Flemyng A young girl gets lost in the Australian outback and befriends a kangaroo Director: Yoram Gross Young Oliver Twist runs away from an orphanage and meets a group of boys trained to be pickpockets by an elderly mentor. Director: Carol Reed Edit Storyline The film opens in a happy, comfortable upper middle-class home in Edwardian London.

One night in 1905, the three children see their father usher two strangers into his study. After an argument he leaves with them and does not return. They and their mother fall on hard times and eventually move to a cottage in the country. Yet they keep their spirits up and find ways to help others. Fascinated by the nearby railway, they wave to the passengers faithfully every day, and their vigilance and courage prevent an accident. Their kindness makes friends of some important people who can help solve the mystery of their missing father. Written by Paul Emmons <pemmons@wcupa.edu> A film for adults to take their children, too! See more » Genres: 26 December 1970 (UK) See more » Also Known As: Did You Know? Trivia The British Film Institute ranks this film as the 66th Best British Film of all time, the only children's film to make the list.

See more » Goofs This movie is set in 1905, yet after Perks opens the crossing gates to let an express train through, it's hauled by an 0-6-2 N2 class locomotive, a type of locomotive not built until the early 1920s. See more » Quotes Bobbie Waterbury : It's Perks's birthday, he's 42, he says he got other things to keep than his birthday, not rabbits and secrets but the kids and the bloomin' missus. Bobbie Waterbury : Same thing isn't it? Phyllis Waterbury : Bloomin' missus is a sort of a germ of endearment isn't it? See more » Crazy Credits As the end credit captions are displayed the shot tracks towards a steam locomotive, in front of which are gathered the principal cast. They are surrounded by extras portraying local townspeople, who wave and say goodbye to the audience. All the while, Jenny Agutter is preoccupied with writing something on a slate. As the camera reaches her, she holds it up to display the words "The End".

See more » Connections The Man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo (uncredited) Romanticised nostalgia for the days of steam 7 December 2003 | by Filmtribute (United Kingdom) – See all my reviews Such is the impact of Lionel Jeffries magical 1970 film version of `The Railway Children' that I can well recall the time my grandfather dragged me from my play to watch one of his favourite movies when it was first screened on television. A quarter of a century later as a father of a small boy my interest has been revived and I find myself becoming something of a railway child once more. The number of privately restored railways that exist conveniently to hand, as though to undermine Dr Richard Beeching's efficiency cuts of the 1960's, further help this pastime. Most notable of these is the Bluebell Railway in Sussex, one of the first and best known revived lines, used by Catherine Morshead for Carlton TV's remake of this movie in 2000.

The actual location used for this first film was in Bronte country with the Haworth Parsonage passing for the doctor's house, though the true star was the Keighly and Worth Valley Railway which had been reopened by volunteers six years after its closure in 1962. This film was well liked by the younger generation besotted with all things `Thomas the Tank Engine', including `Thomas and the Magic Railway' an all American reworking of Rev W Awdry's creation starring Alec Baldwin and Henry Fonda, serving to add to the ever growing collectable models now available. A middle class family lose their government official of a father on spying charges and are forced to adjourn to the country in reduced circumstances to a wonderful house that many would dream of living in. Being spared incarceration in a school, the fate of most of today's children, they fully enjoy their privileged freedom and have some adventure through befriending the neighbouring railway line. A word of caution should however be issued regarding the landslide and near train crash, which had a disturbing effect on the younger viewer, though undoubtedly in a different sense to that imprinted on the minds of some older fans.

The moment when Jenny Agutter as the pristine heroine Bobby faints dead away after powerfully arresting the train is matched in the lump-in-the-throat stakes when she runs along the platform for the reunion with her father with her immortal cry of "Daddy, my Daddy". Before returning to the UK to star in The Railway Children, Agutter had spent three months touring the Australian Outback for the filming of Walkabout and being disconsolate about where society was going was unsure of doing the film, but fortunately she was charmed by the director's vitality. He had been encouraged by his daughter to turn the book into a film and Agutter was a natural choice having already played the part of Bobbie two years earlier for a BBC serial. The film provided Agutter her breakthrough first part in the National Theatre four years later as Shakespeare's Miranda, opposite Sir John Gielgud's Prospero, in `The Tempest'.

This in turn led to an eighteen year career in the US, with such memorable films as the cult sci-fi `Logan's Run' and the successful horror and humour cross in `An American Werewolf in London', as well as one of her personal favourite creations as the ill-used Ann in Beryl Bainbridge's strangely unromantic `Sweet William'. As well as being official patron of the Edith Nesbit and The Railway Children website, Agutter has been working on a dramatisation of the author's life, and would seem the obvious choice for the role having such a deep professional connection. Sally Thomsett winsomely squeezes her notoriously corseted twenty-year-old frame into the role of the younger sister Phyllis, some six years her junior, and her brother Peter is an ably suited Gary Warren. A very graceful Dinah Sheridan is Mrs Waterbury, the mother, whilst Bernard Cribbins creates a manic porter in Perks. As a teenager Edith Nesbit lived for three years at Halstead Hall, near Knockholt Station in Kent with its deep railway cuttings and tunnels and about half an hour from London, which is believed to have given her the inspiration for her famed novel.

Nesbit's use of her plain initial for her writing disguised her gender back in 1906 and whether or not this was a conscious intention it led to her occasionally being thought a male writer. Why J K Rowling of Harry Potter fame should chose to do the same nearly a century later escapes me especially as the identity behind any pseudonym is easily uncovered today? Possibly it is to do with the tradition of male fantasy writers using only their initials, as in such luminaries as J M Barrie, C S Lewis, and J R R Tolkein. Women writers today surely don't face the same difficulties and social barriers that the Bronte sisters and George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) had, being forced to take masculine nom de plumes in order to get their work published, but do they fear that male readers will automatically be deterred if the work is obviously by a girl'? Conversely it is a man, who coyly disguises his gender presumably for a female market, that has written the romantic novels of Emma Blair. Curiously, whilst the Brontes have subsequently been published under their own names rather than their Bell aliases, George Eliot's work has not been liberated in this way.

If literature, that previously anonymous and faceless industry, enabling women to compete on an equal footing, continues the current invidious marketing trend of promoting works by beautiful and youthful authors rather than on the merits of the works alone, then how can any other industry ever stand a hope of breaking the sexist and ageist glass ceilings? The legacy of this film and the book continues with its name being used by a Wigan based pop group in 1984, and in 1995 for the very worthy charity for vulnerable youngsters arriving alone at railway stations in some of the world's poorest countries. The film still represents family entertainment at its best with nostalgia for another time and place enhancing the tale. 19 of 23 people found this review helpful. Was this review helpful to you? Yes How did E Nesbit come to write The Railway Children? | Stage | The Guardian Share on Messenger Close A hundred years ago this month, the London Magazine carried the third instalment of a new story by the celebrated children's writer E Nesbit. It was Nesbit who, almost a century before JK Rowling invented Harry Potter, had put the fantasy and magic into children's literature with novels such as Five Children and It and The Phoenix and the Carpet.

Her latest novel, however, was not about an ancient Psammead who could grant wishes, or a second-hand magic carpet that could transport its owners anywhere they desired. It was the story of three children, Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis, forced to downsize from the suburban middle classes and go and live with their mother in the country when their father is unjustly imprisoned for selling state secrets. The Railway Children, published in book form in 1906 and never out of print since, has a special and enduring place in British children's literature. This place has been further guaranteed by two BBC serials, the famous 1970 Lionel Jeffries film and Simon Nye's 2000 ITV adaptation, which scored the coup of casting Jenny Agutter, who had played Bobbie in the 1970 film, as the children's heroic mother. Like so much Golden Age children's literature, The Railway Children is a retreat, the celebration of the rural idyll of an England that never existed.

It also presents an idealised view of childhood, in which unfettered and tenacious children, unencumbered by school and drawing only on their own resourcefulness, prevent derailments and set in motion the wheels that allow their falsely incarcerated father to return to the bosom of the family. The lost father is a favourite Nesbit theme: her own father died when she was four and in her books she was always trying to get him back. Bobbie's cry at the end of The Railway Children - "Oh! My Daddy, my Daddy" - remains one of the most recognisable and touching lines in children's literature. Yet for all its conventional Edwardian view of the world and the family, it is also specifically grounded in the political and social realities of its time. The almost Kafkaesque arrest and unjust conviction of the children's father was clearly inspired by the Dreyfus case, and the Russian who turns up at the station having escaped imprisonment in Siberia for writing a book about the Russian poor was inspired by the Russian exile Sergi Stepniak who along with his anarchist comrade Peter Kropotkin was a friend of the Blands.

Ironically, Stepniak was killed by an oncoming train as he walked down the line - an accident that may well have been suicide. More strikingly, The Railway Children reflects on the highly unconventional life of its author. In The Railway Children there is a constant tension between appearances and reality, particularly in Mother's conventional middle-class desire to keep up an outward show so that outsiders remain unaware of the true extent of the family's poverty. Poverty was something Edith Nesbit had known first hand, both as a child and as a young married woman with small children. Perhaps as a child, with a widowed mother trying to make ends meet and find a suitable climate for Edith's consumptive elder sister Mary, Nesbit had experienced the admonishment issued by Mother to Phyllis in The Railway Children : "Jam or butter, dear - not jam and butter. We can't afford that sort of reckless luxury nowadays." Money was always an issue for Nesbit, even at the height of her success. But the real tension in her life was between what was expected of a respectable woman of the era and the realities of her life.

Mother is clearly a self-portrait, but it was wishful thinking on Nesbit's part as she was anything but a model of Victorian and Edwardian propriety. A founder member of the Fabian society, she cut her hair short, as an "advanced woman" smoked incessantly (eventually dying of lung cancer in 1924) and was seven months pregnant with her eldest son Paul before she married the child's father, Hubert Bland. Even then the couple did not immediately live together, Bland preferring to remain in the comfort of his mother's home, leaving Nesbit to fend for herself. Like Mother she was forced to try and sell her stories and poems to often resistant editors. For most of her married life Nesbit lived in a menage a trois with her former best friend and husband's mistress, Alice Hoatson, who bore Bland two children whom Nesbit raised as her own. Bland was an inveterate philanderer who before marriage had also had a son by his mother's companion. But Nesbit's love affairs were numerous too - she had a succession of relationships with much younger men, as well as an unhappy passion for the young Bernard Shaw who was just embarking on his illustrious career.

At the end of the affair, Shaw wrote an unfinished novel that featured an unflattering portrait of the Bland marriage and 10 years later wrote Candida, about a woman torn between her husband and her poet lover. Nesbit and Shaw remained friends, with the latter bailing Nesbit out financially in her later years and even paying for John - Bland's son by Alice Hoatson - to study at Cambridge. Yet it would be a mistake to think that Nesbit was anything other than a child of the Victorian era. Her view of women was highly traditional. When her friend Eleanor Marx announced her intention to live openly with Edward Aveling, Nesbit (along with many other Fabians) was scandalised. She was never a supporter of the suffragette cause, and her husband in his newspaper columns continually propounded the need for women to know their place - even as his own wife continued to be the family's major breadwinner. These contradictions are apparent in The Railway Children. Despite Father's apparent treasonable disgrace, Mother is always very much a lady and instinctively recognised as such by the less well-born villagers. And Bobbie is a miniature version of her mother, caught between having fun and being a little lady.

Unlike the younger Phyllis and her brother Peter, Bobbie is not allowed to be bad: like poor Wendy in Barrie's Peter Pan, she is doomed to play the role of "little mother". All her life Nesbit longed to be taken seriously as an adult novelist and poet. Instead she was, as Julia Briggs noted in her excellent biography of Nesbit, A Woman of Passion , "the first modern writer for children". Her gift was to be able to speak directly to children. Perhaps the intensity of her connection to childhood emotions was a result of an unhappy peripatetic childhood: she was packed away to a succession of unsatisfactory boarding schools in England and Europe while her mother concentrated all her attention on the seriously ill Mary. The Railway Children draws directly on the happiest period of Nesbit's childhood - an adolescence spent at Halstead in Kent where the railway line ran close to the bottom of the garden and she and her brothers could walk, although not without danger, down the line to the station. She may have been a wonderful writer for children, but Nesbit's relationship with her own children was very far from that depicted in The Railway Children.

The relationship between mother and daughters - Iris, her natural daughter, and Rosamund, whom she brought up as her own - had nothing of the closeness of Mother and Bobbie in The Railway Children. Nesbit left their upbringing largely to Alice Hoatson and once complained to a friend: "Water runs downhill. The affection you get back from children is sixpence given as change for a sovereign." Her youngest son, Fabian, died aged 15 after an operation at home to have his tonsils out, because nobody in the household reminded the child not to eat before the anaesthetic. But perhaps the saddest of all the children was Nesbit's eldest son, Paul. He was a constant reminder to his mother of the irregularity of her domestic life - and he was ignored by his father, who found him dull. The Railway Children is dedicated to him: "To my dear son, Paul Bland, behind whose knowledge of railways my ignorance confidently shelters." By the time it was published, Paul was already grown up and had taken an unrewarding job as a stockbroker. He took flight from his mother's world, torn as it was between bohemian desire and Victorian rectitude, and retreated into suburbia.

The Railway Children found an unexpected and glorious freedom in escaping suburbia, so much so that you can never imagine them returning there after the restoration of their father. But Paul's upbringing and his new life proved impossible to reconcile. For this railway child there was no happy ending: increasingly suffering from depression, he killed himself in 1940 by taking poison at the age of 60. · The Railway Children is at the Peacock Theatre , London WC2, until April 10. Box office: 0870 737 0337. "Masterpiece Classic" The Railway Children (TV Episode 2000) - IMDb IMDb 17 January 2017 4:34 PM, UTC NEWS There was an error trying to load your rating for this title. Some parts of this page won't work property. Please reload or try later. X Beta I'm Watching This! Keep track of everything you watch; tell your friends. Error Dramatization of E. Nesbit's classic novel about three children whose lives change Dramatically after they move to a Yorkshire cottage near a railway line. Director: Simon Nye (screenplay), E.

Nesbit (based on the novel by) | 1 more credit » Stars: Famous Directors: From Sundance to Prominence From Christopher Nolan to Quentin Tarantino and every Coen brother in between, many of today's most popular directors got their start at the Sundance Film Festival . Here's a list of some of the biggest names to go from Sundance to Hollywood prominence. a list of 34 titles created 19 Jan 2013 a list of 26 titles created 09 Jun 2013 a list of 29 titles created 05 Jan 2014 a list of 40 titles created 20 Mar 2014 a list of 45 titles created 22 Aug 2014 Title: The Railway Children (12 Nov 2000) 7.4/10 Want to share IMDb's rating on your own site? Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Edit Storyline Dramatization of E. Nesbit's classic novel about three children whose lives change Dramatically after they move to a Yorkshire cottage near a railway line.

12 November 2000 (USA) See more » Filming Locations: Did You Know? Trivia The eldest of the railway children, Roberta, is named after Berta Ruck , a close friend of E. Nesbit . See more » Goofs In the scene where the children are on the canal bridge they watch a horse drawn canal boat pass under the bridge, the boat however is a motor boat and not an unpowered boat, motor boats did not appear on the canals until the 1920s. See more » Quotes This is even better than the first film! 18 November 2005 | by whistlestop (Ireland) – See all my reviews I just loved this film - even though I thought the first 1970 film was wonderful, this is better. All the actors are super, and I thought Gregor Fisher was great as Perks, a lovely warmth to him. The really inspired touch was in getting Jenny Agutter to play the mother role this time, and she does it superbly.

I always chuckle over the lines given to Bobbie and herself; she warns Bobbie not to go onto the railway line, and Bobbie asks innocently "Didn't you ever walk on the rail tracks when you were a girl?" Tongue in cheek, a nice touch... The trains are gorgeous, scenery beautiful, but we don't see enough of the lovely Michael Kitchen. I've bought this one to watch again and again. 8 of 15 people found this review helpful. Was this review helpful to you? Yes The Railway Children The Railway Children Permalink Looking for some new book ideas for your child? Jill tells us why The Railway Children is a favourite from her childhood. Sign up for our free newsletter and join us on facebook and follow us on Twitter , Instagram , YouTube and enjoy our Books board on Pinterest . One of my all time favourite books as a child was “ The Railway Children ” by E. Nesbit. The story of Roberta (“Bobbie”) and her brother Peter and sister Phyllis is a true classic. They are the children of a wealthy businessman whose world is turned upside down when he is taken away mysteriously by two men one evening and they have to move to the country.

Here, their new house sits close to the railway and the children visit the railway every day to see the different trains rush by, making friends with Perks the Porter at the station and having different adventures. Gradually Bobbie learns the truth about what has happened to their father. Why is this such a classic? The writing brings the characters to life so well, they have great adventures because of the railway, including helping to save the lives of train passengers, and the emotional aspects of them having to deal with a change in circumstance and loss of a parent are dealt with sensitively. So much so that the ending will stir the heart of any reader. If you have never seen the film with Jenny Agutter, I recommend the film as well, it is one of the best book adaptations to film I have seen. I have just added this book to my re-read pile again! Over to you now! Have you or your child read The Railway Children? Tell us what you thought of the book in the comments below. Tagged under The Railway Children | Chapter The Railway Children Monday 28 March IMPORTANT MESSAGE The event has already taken place. You can enjoy this archived content, but you can no longer book tickets.

The Railway Children UK/2016/128mins/U. Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis have their lives changed dramatically when their father is mysteriously taken away. They move from London to a cottage in rural Yorkshire with their mother, where they befriend the local railway porter, Perks, and embark on a magical journey of discovery, friendship and adventure. York Theatre Royal’s Olivier award-winning production of Mike Kenny and Damian Cruden’s imaginative stage adaptation, is directed for the screen by International Emmy award-winning Ross MacGibbon (The Importance of Being Earnest with David Suchet, Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake). The filmed event from the National Railway Museum in Yorkshire features the original locomotive from the much-loved 1970 film.

£15/£12/£10 Family ticket (2 adults + 2 children): £45 - please contact the Box Office on 029 2030 4400 to book Sally Thomsett revisits Phyllis as The Railway Children play comes to Waterloo | Daily Mail Online comments Original Phyllis meets new girl at production in disused Eurostar terminal Forty years after playing Phyllis in the classic family film The Railway Children, Sally Thomsett is revisiting the role which made her famous. But this time the 60-year-old actress was in the audience, watching the impressive staging of the E Nesbit tale on the disused Eurostar platforms at London's Waterloo station. The former Man About The House star joined Honor Blackman and Nickolas Grace at the opening night of the production, which has already enjoyed a successful run at the National Railway Museum of York.

The two Phyllises: Sally Thomsett, who starred in the 1970 film, joins Louisa Clein, who plays Phyllis in the current stage production, at opening night Classic: Thomsett as Phyllis in the 1970 film adaptation of The Railway Children The Eurostar platforms proves a perfect setting, bringing the 1,000-strong audience directly into the action with an actual vintage steam chain chugging into the stage. Despite now having swapped her acting career to be a housewife and mother, Thomsett was still recognisable with her long blonde hair and wide grin. Thomsett was actually 20 when she filmed the 1970 movie, despite being cast as an 11-year-old character. As part of her contract, she was forbidden to reveal her real age and was banned from smoking or drinking on set. Missing out on last night's festivities were Thomsett's on-screen sibling Jenny Agutter - who played Roberta - and Gary Warren as Peter. Following a successful run in Yorkshire, critics praised the London production last night.

The Evening Standard's Fiona Mountford writes: 'The upshot is a delightfully fluid production from Damian Cruden, suggesting both the continual movement of the railway itself and the narrative momentum that propels kind-hearted Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis to their eventual happy ending.' The Guardian critic Michael Billington said: 'It's a story about class, community and treating others with respect, and, in Cruden's excellent production, it never for a moment runs out of steam.' Enlarge Dramatic setting: The cast at the curtain call of the new production on the disused Eurostar platforms at Waterloo The Railway Children tells the story of Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis, three children whose lives change dramatically when their father, who works for the Foreign Office, is mysteriously taken away for questioning. They move from London to a cottage in rural Yorkshire with their mother where they befriend the local railway porter and embark on a magical journey. The film famously contains the lines: 'Daddy, my Daddy!' when Bobbie is reunited with her father.

Acting veterans: Honor Blackman and Nickolas Grace The current theatre production stars Sarah Quintrell as Roberta, Louisa Clein as Phyllis and Ashes To Ashes actor Marshall Lancaster as railway porter Albert Perks. E Nesbit's much-loved children's book The Railway Children was first published in 1906 and has been adapted for the stage and screen several times, most famously in the 1970 film version directed by the late Lionel Jeffries. The Waterloo production runs until September 4. Family favourite: (L-R) Gary Warren, Thomsett, Dinah Sheridan and Jenny Agutter in The Railway Children The Railway Children - Chapter 1 The Railway Children Chapter 1 The Beginning of Things They were not railway children to begin with. I don't suppose they had ever thought about railways except as a means of getting to Maskelyne and Cook's, the Pantomime, Zoological Gardens, and Madame Tussaud's.

They were just ordinary suburban children, and they lived with their Father and Mother in an ordinary red-brick-fronted villa, with coloured glass in the front door, a tiled passage that was called a hall, a bath-room with hot and cold water, electric bells, French windows, and a good deal of white paint, and 'every modern convenience', as the house-agents say. There were three of them. Roberta was the eldest. Of course, Mothers never have favourites, but if their Mother had had a favourite, it might have been Roberta. Next came Peter, who wished to be an Engineer when he grew up; and the youngest was Phyllis, who meant extremely well. Mother did not spend all her time in paying dull calls to dull ladies, and sitting dully at home waiting for dull ladies to pay calls to her. She was almost always there, ready to play with the children, and read to them, and help them to do their home-lessons.

Besides this she used to write stories for them while they were at school, and read them aloud after tea, and she always made up funny pieces of poetry for their birthdays and for other great occasions, such as the christening of the new kittens, or the refurnishing of the doll's house, or the time when they were getting over the mumps. These three lucky children always had everything they needed: pretty clothes, good fires, a lovely nursery with heaps of toys, and a Mother Goose wall-paper. They had a kind and merry nursemaid, and a dog who was called James, and who was their very own. They also had a Father who was just perfect ï¿½ never cross, never unjust, and always ready for a game ï¿½ at least, if at any time he was not ready, he always had an excellent reason for it, and explained the reason to the children so interestingly and funnily that they felt sure he couldn't help himself. You will think that they ought to have been very happy. And so they were, but they did not know how happy till the pretty life in the Red Villa was over and done with, and they had to live a very different life indeed.

The dreadful change came quite suddenly. Peter had a birthday ï¿½ his tenth. Among his other presents was a model engine more perfect than you could ever have dreamed of. The other presents were full of charm, but the Engine was fuller of charm than any of the others were. Its charm lasted in its full perfection for exactly three days. Then, owing either to Peter's inexperience or Phyllis's good intentions, which had been rather pressing, or to some other cause, the Engine suddenly went off with a bang. James was so frightened that he went out and did not come back all day. All the Noah's Ark people who were in the tender were broken to bits, but nothing else was hurt except the poor little engine and the feelings of Peter. The others said he cried over it ï¿½ but of course boys of ten do not cry, however terrible the tragedies may be which darken their lot. He said that his eyes were red because he had a cold. This turned out to be true, though Peter did not know it was when he said it, the next day he had to go to bed and stay there.

Mother began to be afraid that he might be sickening for measles, when suddenly he sat up in bed and said: "I hate gruel ï¿½ I hate barley water ï¿½ I hate bread and milk. I want to get up and have something real to eat." "What would you like?" Mother asked. "A pigeon-pie," said Peter, eagerly, "a large pigeon-pie. A very large one." So Mother asked the Cook to make a large pigeon-pie. The pie was made. And when the pie was made, it was cooked. And when it was cooked, Peter ate some of it. After that his cold was better. Mother made a piece of poetry to amuse him while the pie was being made. It began by saying what an unfortunate but worthy boy Peter was, then it went on: He had an engine that he loved With all his heart and soul, And if he had a wish on earth It was to keep it whole. One day ï¿½ my friends, prepare your minds; I'm coming to the worst ï¿½ Quite suddenly a screw went mad, And then the boiler burst!

With gloomy face he picked it up And took it to his Mother, Though even he could not suppose That she could make another; For those who perished on the line He did not seem to care, His engine being more to him Than all the people there. And now you see the reason why Our Peter has been ill: He soothes his soul with pigeon-pie His gnawing grief to kill. He wraps himself in blankets warm And sleeps in bed till late, Determined thus to overcome And if his eyes are rather red, His cold must just excuse it: Offer him pie; you may be sure He never will refuse it. Father had been away in the country for three or four days. All Peter's hopes for the curing of his afflicted Engine were now fixed on his Father, for Father was most wonderfully clever with his fingers. He could mend all sorts of things. He had often acted as veterinary surgeon to the wooden rocking-horse; once he had saved its life when all human aid was despaired of, and the poor creature was given up for lost, and even the carpenter said he didn't see his way to do anything.

And it was Father who mended the doll's cradle when no one else could; and with a little glue and some bits of wood and a pen-knife made all the Noah's Ark beasts as strong on their pins as ever they were, if not stronger. Peter, with heroic unselfishness, did not say anything about his Engine till after Father had had his dinner and his after-dinner cigar. The unselfishness was Mother's idea ï¿½ but it was Peter who carried it out. And needed a good deal of patience, too. At last Mother said to Father, "Now, dear, if you're quite rested, and quite comfy, we want to tell you about the great railway accident, and ask your advice." "All right," said Father, "fire away!" So then Peter told the sad tale, and fetched what was left of the Engine. "Hum," said Father, when he had looked the Engine over very carefully. The children held their breaths. "Is there no hope?" said Peter, in a low, unsteady voice. "Hope? Rather!

Tons of it," said Father, cheerfully; "but it'll want something besides hope ï¿½ a bit of brazing say, or some solder, and a new valve. I think we'd better keep it for a rainy day. In other words, I'll give up Saturday afternoon to it, and you shall all help me." "Can girls help to mend engines?" Peter asked doubtfully. "Of course they can. Girls are just as clever as boys, and don't you forget it! How would you like to be an engine-driver, Phil?" "My face would be always dirty, wouldn't it?" said Phyllis, in unenthusiastic tones, "and I expect I should break something." "I should just love it," said Roberta ï¿½ "do you think I could when I'm grown up, Daddy? Or even a stoker?" "You mean a fireman," said Daddy, pulling and twisting at the engine. "Well, if you still wish it, when you're grown up, we'll see about making you a fire-woman. I remember when I was a boy ï¿½ " Just then there was a knock at the front door.

"Who on earth!" said Father. "An Englishman's house is his castle, of course, but I do wish they built semi-detached villas with moats and drawbridges." Ruth ï¿½ she was the parlour-maid and had red hair ï¿½ came in and said that two gentlemen wanted to see the master. "I've shown them into the Library, Sir," said she. "I expect it's the subscription to the Vicar's testimonial," said Mother, "or else it's the choir holiday fund. Get rid of them quickly, dear. It does break up an evening so, and it's nearly the children's bedtime." But Father did not seem to be able to get rid of the gentlemen at all quickly. "I wish we had got a moat and drawbridge," said Roberta; "then, when we didn't want people, we could just pull up the drawbridge and no one else could get in.

I expect Father will have forgotten about when he was a boy if they stay much longer." Mother tried to make the time pass by telling them a new fairy story about a Princess with green eyes, but it was difficult because they could hear the voices of Father and the gentlemen in the Library, and Father's voice sounded louder and different to the voice he generally used to people who came about testimonials and holiday funds. Then the Library bell rang, and everyone heaved a breath of relief. "They're going now," said Phyllis; "he's rung to have them shown out." But instead of showing anybody out, Ruth showed herself in, and she looked queer, the children thought. "Please'm," she said, "the Master wants you to just step into the study. He looks like the dead, mum; I think he's had bad news. You'd best prepare yourself for the worst, 'm ï¿½ p'raps it's a death in the family or a bank busted or ï¿½ " "That'll do, Ruth," said Mother gently; "you can go." Then Mother went into the Library. There was more talking. Then the bell rang again, and Ruth fetched a cab.

The children heard boots go out and down the steps. The cab drove away, and the front door shut. Then Mother came in. Her dear face was as white as her lace collar, and her eyes looked very big and shining. Her mouth looked like just a line of pale red ï¿½ her lips were thin and not their proper shape at all. "It's bedtime," she said. "Ruth will put you to bed." "But you promised we should sit up late tonight because Father's come home," said Phyllis. "Father's been called away ï¿½ on business," said Mother. "Come, darlings, go at once." They kissed her and went. Roberta lingered to give Mother an extra hug and to whisper: "It wasn't bad news, Mammy, was it? Is anyone dead ï¿½ or ï¿½ " "Nobody's dead ï¿½ no," said Mother, and she almost seemed to push Roberta away. "I can't tell you anything tonight, my pet. Go, dear, go now." So Roberta went. Ruth brushed the girls' hair and helped them to undress.

(Mother almost always did this herself.) When she had turned down the gas and left them she found Peter, still dressed, waiting on the stairs. "I say, Ruth, what's up?" he asked. "Don't ask me no questions and I won't tell you no lies," the red-headed Ruth replied. "You'll know soon enough." Late that night Mother came up and kissed all three children as they lay asleep. But Roberta was the only one whom the kiss woke, and she lay mousey-still, and said nothing. "If Mother doesn't want us to know she's been crying," she said to herself as she heard through the dark the catching of her Mother's breath, "we won't know it. That's all." When they came down to breakfast the next morning, Mother had already gone out. "To London," Ruth said, and left them to their breakfast. "There's something awful the matter," said Peter, breaking his egg. "Ruth told me last night we should know soon enough." "Did you ask her?" said Roberta, with scorn. "Yes, I did!" said Peter, angrily. "If you could go to bed without caring whether Mother was worried or not, I couldn't.

So there." "I don't think we ought to ask the servants things Mother doesn't tell us," said Roberta. "That's right, Miss Goody-goody," said Peter, "preach away." "I'm not goody," said Phyllis, "but I think Bobbie's right this time." "Of course. She always is. In her own opinion," said Peter. "Oh, don't!" cried Roberta, putting down her egg-spoon; "don't let's be horrid to each other. I'm sure some dire calamity is happening. Don't let's make it worse!" "Who began, I should like to know?" said Peter. Roberta made an effort, and answered: "I did, I suppose, but ï¿½ " "Well, then," said Peter, triumphantly. But before he went to school he thumped his sister between the shoulders and told her to cheer up. The children came home to one o'clock dinner, but Mother was not there. And she was not there at tea-time. It was nearly seven before she came in, looking so ill and tired that the children felt they could not ask her any questions. She sank into an arm-chair.

Phyllis took the long pins out of her hat, while Roberta took off her gloves, and Peter unfastened her walking-shoes and fetched her soft velvety slippers for her. When she had had a cup of tea, and Roberta had put eau-de-Cologne on her poor head that ached, Mother said: "Now, my darlings, I want to tell you something. Those men last night did bring very bad news, and Father will be away for some time. I am very worried about it, and I want you all to help me, and not to make things harder for me." "As if we would!" said Roberta, holding Mother's hand against her face. "You can help me very much," said Mother, "by being good and happy and not quarrelling when I'm away" ï¿½ Roberta and Peter exchanged guilty glances ï¿½ "for I shall have to be away a good deal." "We won't quarrel. Indeed we won't," said everybody. And meant it, too.

"Then," Mother went on, "I want you not to ask me any questions about this trouble; and not to ask anybody else any questions." Peter cringed and shuffled his boots on the carpet. "You'll promise this, too, won't you?" said Mother. "I did ask Ruth," said Peter, suddenly. "I'm very sorry, but I did." "And what did she say?" "She said I should know soon enough." "It isn't necessary for you to know anything about it," said Mother; "it's about business, and you never do understand business, do you?" "No," said Roberta; "is it something to do with Government?" For Father was in a Government Office. "Yes," said Mother. "Now it's bed-time, my darlings. And don't you worry. It'll all come right in the end." "Then don't you worry either, Mother," said Phyllis, "and we'll all be as good as gold." Mother sighed and kissed them. "We'll begin being good the first thing tomorrow morning," said Peter, as they went upstairs. "Why not now?" said Roberta. "There's nothing to be good about now, silly," said Peter.

"We might begin to try to feel good," said Phyllis, "and not call names." "Who's calling names?" said Peter. "Bobbie knows right enough that when I say 'silly', it's just the same as if I said Bobbie." "Well," said Roberta. "No, I don't mean what you mean. I mean it's just a ï¿½ what is it Father calls it? ï¿½ a germ of endearment! Good night." The girls folded up their clothes with more than usual neatness ï¿½ which was the only way of being good that they could think of. "I say," said Phyllis, smoothing out her pinafore, "you used to say it was so dull ï¿½ nothing happening, like in books. Now something has happened." "I never wanted things to happen to make Mother unhappy," said Roberta. "Everything's perfectly horrid." Everything continued to be perfectly horrid for some weeks. Mother was nearly always out. Meals were dull and dirty. The between-maid was sent away, and Aunt Emma came on a visit. Aunt Emma was much older than Mother. She was going abroad to be a governess.

She was very busy getting her clothes ready, and they were very ugly, dingy clothes, and she had them always littering about, and the sewing-machine seemed to whir ï¿½ on and on all day and most of the night. Aunt Emma believed in keeping children in their proper places. And they more than returned the compliment. Their idea of Aunt Emma's proper place was anywhere where they were not. So they saw very little of her. They preferred the company of the servants, who were more amusing. Cook, if in a good temper, could sing comic songs, and the housemaid, if she happened not to be offended with you, could imitate a hen that has laid an egg, a bottle of champagne being opened, and could mew like two cats fighting. The servants never told the children what the bad news was that the gentlemen had brought to Father. But they kept hinting that they could tell a great deal if they chose ï¿½ and this was not comfortable. One day when Peter had made a booby trap over the bath-room door, and it had acted beautifully as Ruth passed through, that red-haired parlour-maid caught him and boxed his ears.

"You'll come to a bad end," she said furiously, "you nasty little limb, you! If you don't mend your ways, you'll go where your precious Father's gone, so I tell you straight!" Roberta repeated this to her Mother, and next day Ruth was sent away. Then came the time when Mother came home and went to bed and stayed there two days and the Doctor came, and the children crept wretchedly about the house and wondered if the world was coming to an end. Mother came down one morning to breakfast, very pale and with lines on her face that used not to be there. And she smiled, as well as she could, and said: "Now, my pets, everything is settled. We're going to leave this house, and go and live in the country. Such a ducky dear little white house. I know you'll love it." A whirling week of packing followed ï¿½ not just packing clothes, like when you go to the seaside, but packing chairs and tables, covering their tops with sacking and their legs with straw. All sorts of things were packed that you don't pack when you go to the seaside.

Crockery, blankets, candlesticks, carpets, bedsteads, saucepans, and even fenders and fire-irons. The house was like a furniture warehouse. I think the children enjoyed it very much. Mother was very busy, but not too busy now to talk to them, and read to them, and even to make a bit of poetry for Phyllis to cheer her up when she fell down with a screwdriver and ran it into her hand. "Aren't you going to pack this, Mother?" Roberta asked, pointing to the beautiful cabinet inlaid with red turtleshell and brass. "We can't take everything," said Mother. "But we seem to be taking all the ugly things," said Roberta. "We're taking the useful ones," said Mother; "we've got to play at being poor for a bit, my chickabiddy." When all the ugly useful things had been packed up and taken away in a van by men in green-baize aprons, the two girls and Mother and Aunt Emma slept in the two spare rooms where the furniture was all pretty. All their beds had gone. A bed was made up for Peter on the drawing-room sofa.

"I say, this is larks," he said, wriggling joyously, as Mother tucked him up. "I do like moving! I wish we moved once a month." Mother laughed. "I don't!" she said. "Good night, Peterkin." As she turned away Roberta saw her face. She never forgot it. "Oh, Mother," she whispered all to herself as she got into bed, "how brave you are! How I love you! Fancy being brave enough to laugh when you're feeling like that!" Next day boxes were filled, and boxes and more boxes; and then late in the afternoon a cab came to take them to the station. Aunt Emma saw them off. They felt that they were seeing her off, and they were glad of it. "But, oh, those poor little foreign children that she's going to governess!" whispered Phyllis. "I wouldn't be them for anything!" At first they enjoyed looking out of the window, but when it grew dusk they grew sleepier and sleepier, and no one knew how long they had been in the train when they were roused by Mother's shaking them gently and saying: "Wake up, dears.

We're there." They woke up, cold and melancholy, and stood shivering on the draughty platform while the baggage was taken out of the train. Then the engine, puffing and blowing, set to work again, and dragged the train away. The children watched the tail-lights of the guard's van disappear into the darkness. This was the first train the children saw on that railway which was in time to become so very dear to them. They did not guess then how they would grow to love the railway, and how soon it would become the centre of their new life, nor what wonders and changes it would bring to them. They only shivered and sneezed and hoped the walk to the new house would not be long. Peter's nose was colder than he ever remembered it to have been before. Roberta's hat was crooked, and the elastic seemed tighter than usual. Phyllis's shoe-laces had come undone. "Come," said Mother, "we've got to walk. There aren't any cabs here." The walk was dark and muddy. The children stumbled a little on the rough road, and once Phyllis absently fell into a puddle, and was picked up damp and unhappy.

There were no gas-lamps on the road, and the road was uphill. The cart went at a foot's pace, and they followed the gritty crunch of its wheels. As their eyes got used to the darkness, they could see the mound of boxes swaying dimly in front of them. A long gate had to be opened for the cart to pass through, and after that the road seemed to go across fields ï¿½ and now it went down hill. Presently a great dark lumpish thing showed over to the right. "There's the house," said Mother. "I wonder why she's shut the shutters." "Who's she?" asked Roberta. "The woman I engaged to clean the place, and put the furniture straight and get supper." There was a low wall, and trees inside. "That's the garden," said Mother. "It looks more like a dripping-pan full of black cabbages," said Peter. The cart went on along by the garden wall, and round to the back of the house, and here it clattered into a cobble-stoned yard and stopped at the back door. There was no light in any of the windows. Everyone hammered at the door, but no one came.

The man who drove the cart said he expected Mrs. Viney had gone home. "You see your train was that late," said he. "But she's got the key," said Mother. "What are we to do?" "Oh, she'll have left that under the doorstep," said the cart man; "folks do hereabouts." He took the lantern off his cart and stooped. "Ay, here it is, right enough," he said. He unlocked the door and went in and set his lantern on the table. "Got e'er a candle?" said he. "I don't know where anything is." Mother spoke rather less cheerfully than usual. He struck a match. There was a candle on the table, and he lighted it. By its thin little glimmer the children saw a large bare kitchen with a stone floor. There were no curtains, no hearth-rug. The kitchen table from home stood in the middle of the room. The chairs were in one corner, and the pots, pans, brooms, and crockery in another. There was no fire, and the black grate showed cold, dead ashes.

As the cart man turned to go out after he had brought in the boxes, there was a rustling, scampering sound that seemed to come from inside the walls of the house. "Oh, what's that?" cried the girls. "It's only the rats," said the cart man. And he went away and shut the door, and the sudden draught of it blew out the candle. "Oh, dear," said Phyllis, "I wish we hadn't come!" and she knocked a chair over. "Only the rats!" said Peter, in the dark. Go to the

Question: In the book and film The Railway Children, who was the sister of Peter and Phyllis?
Answer: Bobbie